


what is real and just a dream

by justbreathe80



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-15
Updated: 2009-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:58:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbreathe80/pseuds/justbreathe80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But all Fraser could think about was how he couldn't think about anything else but Ray when he was around him, and that seemed dangerous beyond anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what is real and just a dream

**Author's Note:**

> Written for getfraserlaid
> 
> Many thanks to brooklinegirl for the early morning asskicking and beta. Thanks for always expecting more of me, and pushing me to give it you. I adore you.

They were crouched in the alley, Ray’s hands firm on his gun. Fraser could hear the sounds of talking in the street.

Ray looked at him, gestured his head toward the end of the alley, and Fraser nodded. He didn’t need Ray to tell him that he was going to wait until it sounded clear, then go out in the alley to distract the two men, Danvers and Kelly, who’d robbed a bank and seriously wounded two security guards. Fraser would go out the other end and around the block to get behind them, and they would take them down.

Fraser counted, one, two, three, in his head, while Ray stood up and leaned his back against the brick wall. Ray took one step out, and the Fraser heard something, and, yes, there were more than two voices out there, he counted four, and there was no way –

He reached out his hand to grab the front of Ray’s shirt before he could go any further, pulling him behind a dumpster and slamming him into the wall, pressing up against him. Ray tried to protest, “Jesus, Fraser, what the fuck –“ but Fraser’s hand came up to clamp down on Ray’s mouth.

“Shh,” he warned, pinning Ray there. The street was eerily silent, and then the gunshots started, the sound of automatic weapons, and Fraser could hear yelling and screaming and running, and it sounded like a war out there, and thank _god_ he’d gotten to Ray in time.

Fraser turned his head to look into Ray’s eyes, which were wide, and he lowered his hand. Ray took a deep breath. “What the hell is happening?”

Fraser leaned close, whispered in Ray’s ear. “It appears that there are at least six men in the street, shooting at each other.”

Ray leaned in too, and Fraser could feel his hot breath on his neck. “Yeah, well, I sort of figured that out. Good thing we called for backup.”

“Yes,” and it was more of a breath than a word, and Fraser felt Ray shudder beneath him. He could still hear the gunshots, but they were fading, and being overtaken by the sound of his own pounding heart in his ear.

Ray’s mouth was close enough to Fraser’s ear for Fraser to feel his lips. “So, we wait?” Fraser felt the slight movement of Ray’s hips, and Ray - Ray’s erection - hot and hard up against Fraser’s thigh. He fought to hold himself steady, but it was extremely difficult.

He needed to focus, because, at any moment, if they weren’t lucky, they could be discovered, and it would not be helpful if he was trying to tear the clothes off of his partner when it happened.

“I, uh, yes, hopefully our backup will arrive shortly.”

There was shouting coming from the street, but Fraser was only standing, perfectly still, letting Ray rub against him and mouth his neck. He couldn’t move, he honestly didn’t want to, but this couldn’t have happened at a worse time or place. “Fraser,” Ray said softly, his breath a little short. Fraser pushed his own erection into Ray’s hip, and tried to hold on, tried to pay attention to everything –

Then, he heard the sirens coming. They were still a few blocks off. “Ray, Ray, Ray, _Ray_.” And Ray pulled back from him, his lips wet. Fraser backed off a little, because he needed to get back to something resembling normal before the backup got to them, and they only had a few moments. “Our backup is almost here.”

Ray looked a little flustered, but he flashed Fraser a little smile before ducking his head to adjust himself in his pants. Fraser reached up to feel where Ray had been kissing his neck. “Right, Fraser, okay, ready?”

And as the police cars pulled into the street, Ray and Fraser, Ray with his weapon drawn and ready, ran out of the alley.

*****

It took them what seemed like forever, even to Fraser, who usually could patiently get through these post-case debriefings without much problem. They were sitting at Lieutenant Welsh’s desk, telling him what happened, that they tracked Danvers and Kelly to a pawn shop on the South Side, and waited for them in the alley, intending to apprehend them before the gunfight started.

Ray had one leg crossed over the other, and was picking at the fraying cuff of his jeans, letting Fraser tell the story, for the most part. Fraser could tell that Ray was trying to distract himself from the fact that they were leaving out something rather important from their report of the incident.

Finally, Lieutenant Welsh sighed. “Okay, you two. Go home. Good work tonight.”

Fraser and Ray stood up, and Fraser moved to the side to let Ray out of the office door first. Ray walked over to his desk to grab his coat from the back of his chair, then turned to face Fraser. “So, um, drive you home?”

Fraser knew he should say no, think of some excuse, like needing to pick up the Inspector’s dry cleaning, but it was nine o’clock at night, and somehow he thought that the excuses would ring hollow. And besides, he was exhausted, and didn’t really want to walk the twenty-five blocks. So he said “Thank you kindly,” and followed Ray out of the station.

*****

Fraser’s panic increased exponentially as Ray navigated the city streets, easily and quickly at this hour, with barely anyone around. He kept experiencing sense memories of Ray pressed up against him, hard and wanting, and Ray’s soft lips on the skin below his ear, and he didn’t know what to do, what to say.

This was very, very bad.

It wasn’t that he didn’t have feelings for Ray; quite the contrary. He had very strong feelings that he’d been keeping very well concealed for a while. He just hadn’t realized that Ray felt the same way about him. Fraser was terrified. Usually, his first instinct would have been to run out into the street with Ray and figure out how to diffuse the situation, no matter what.

Whereas, today, his first thought was to protect Ray, keep Ray out of danger, instead of doing what he normally would have done. He had no idea what he would do if something happened to Ray, and now there were two men in the hospital with gunshot wounds because Fraser failed to do his duty.

When Ray pulled the GTO to a stop in front of the Consulate, he turned to face Fraser. “So, listen, thanks for that. Back in the alley. You saved my ass.”

“Think nothing of it, Ray.”

“God, Fraser, don’t _do_ that, don’t make it into nothing.” Ray sounded angry. “It’s something for you to save my fucking worthless life, okay? So just accept the thank you.”

Fraser turned his head back and stared out of the front window, watching the stoplight go from red to green. “You’re welcome.” He reached for the door handle.

“Wait,” Ray said, his hand coming out to grasp Fraser’s elbow. Fraser turned, and suddenly, Ray was completely inside his space, pushing him against the door, his breath hot against Fraser’s face. Fraser felt panic creep up, cutting off the air in his lungs. He couldn’t move. “Ray,” he said, even though he really didn’t have anything to follow it up with.

“Do you want this? Do you? Because, well, you seemed like you did before, in the alley, and –“ then Ray stopped talking and pressed his lips to Fraser’s. Fraser stayed stiff, still, just feeling Ray’s mouth, his tongue licking at Fraser’s lips, before he opened up and gave in. Ray’s hands were on either side of Fraser’s head, just like Fraser’s hands on Ray in the Henry Allen. But all Fraser could think about was how he _couldn’t_ think about anything else but Ray when he was around him, and that seemed dangerous beyond anything.

Finally, Fraser pulled away, panting. “Ray, please, I can’t –“

Ray was still close, his eyes fixed on Fraser’s mouth. “What do you mean?

“I just can’t.”

Ray pulled back, sat upright in the seat, but his eyes never left Fraser’s. “Okay. I get it.” Then he smiled, and Fraser wanted to reach out, do something, but his hands stayed still at his sides. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

Fraser was flustered, because he’d expected Ray to be angry, expected a fight, something, but Ray was _grinning_.

“Good night, Ray.”

“Yeah, you too, Frase.”

And then he was gone.

*****

The next morning, Fraser rose early, earlier than he normally did. The sun was barely in the sky, and, if he was being honest, he hadn’t really slept anyway. He lay in bed for a while, staring up at the drab white ceiling of his office, trying to quiet the thoughts in his head.

Finally, he got up and put on his uniform and boots, before going to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. As he put the water on to boil, he started thinking and couldn’t stop. For the first time in a very long time, an image of Victoria appeared in his head, and it was enough to knock him back a few steps, literally, his back hitting the counter.

He could see her face. He could remember the feel of her hair tangled in his fingers. Remember being inside her, how warm she was.

He could also remember Diefenbaker bleeding on the apartment floor.

Ray Vecchio’s bullet slicing through his skin.

Fraser should have known by now to leave well enough alone.

Ray Kowalski was certainly not Victoria; in fact, he was her opposite in very many, very important ways. Physical appearance aside, Ray was warm and open in every way that Victoria was cold and closed off, and Fraser knew with a bone-deep certainty that Ray would never hurt him the way Victoria had.

He trusted Ray completely. It was himself, the way he’d carelessly set aside his duty, his friendships, for her, that he couldn’t trust. He couldn’t do that, not with Ray, and knowing that his feelings for Ray were interfering with his decision-making in difficult situations was unacceptable. He was clearly incapable of staying rational when his heart was involved, so he couldn’t let it be, ever again.

The water was boiling, and he poured it over the tea leaves and let them steep. He watched the leaves dance in the water and closed his eyes, trying to erase the memory of Ray’s body beneath his, hard and hot up against the brick wall. Ray’s mouth on his neck, his breath hot. Ray’s lips on his, the feel of his tongue in Fraser’s mouth. He acknowledged each touch, each glance when they pretended the other one wasn’t looking, and then put each one of them away in his mind. Where Victoria was, where his mother’s death was, where he kept the things he needed to forget to keep going.

He strained his tea and sat in the kitchen, staring down at the mug. He wasn’t sure how long he was there before he heard someone clearing their throat in the doorway, but his tea appeared to be ice cold when he startled and spilled it all over the table.

When he looked up, Ray was standing there, arms folded, leaning against the doorframe with a slightly crooked smile on his face. “Uh, sorry, Fraser, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Fraser jumped up out of his seat and grabbed the nearest dishtowel, mopping up the tea and silently cursing himself. “It’s quite all right, Ray.” Ray walked over to the table and righted the mug, brushing up against Fraser’s side.

“You’re early.” Fraser’s fingers wrapped around the handle of the mug, the cool porcelain against his palm. He could feel Ray, hot, where he pressed against him. Fraser couldn’t move, he felt paralyzed.

Ray grinned. “Yeah, sorry, didn’t sleep very well last night, so I decided to get an early start. Got tired of waiting in the car.”

“Ah, I see.” He felt Ray’s hands come up to his biceps and turn him, so that they were facing each other. Ray was close, and Fraser was finding it difficult to breathe.

Then, Ray’s hand came up and stroked down the side of Fraser’s face. He could feel it welling up inside him, that something that he managed to keep inside, and he thought he might burst. It had been so long since someone had touched him like that. “Listen, Frase –“

“No, Ray, don’t.” He sounded desperate, even to his own ears.

Ray sighed. “I have to, I just – listen, I’m _sorry_ about last night, in the car. I think I fucked up. I didn’t mean to push so hard. I mean, I get it, it’s complicated, the whole partners thing --”

Fraser leaned into Ray’s hand on his face, looking into his eyes. “No, Ray, that’s not it. Please, don’t blame yourself, and don’t think that I did something against my will, because that couldn’t be further from the truth.” He closed his eyes, and the image of Victoria, holding out her hand from the moving train flashed behind his eyelids. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

Ray’s hand dropped away from his face, and Ray pushed him gently away with the other hand on his bicep. He laughed, but it sounded all wrong in the quiet room. “Wow, Fraser, I didn’t know you had a line like that in you. Huh. Do they say things like that up in the Northwest Areas when you want to dump someone?” Fraser could hear the disappointment in Ray’s voice, and it made him flinch.

“Well, Ray, I _have_ been in Chicago long enough to learn some things.”

“Like how to break up with someone American-style.”

“Ray –“

“Don’t worry about it. It’s cool. It was probably a really bad idea anyway. I’ll, uh, I’ll go wait in the car.” Ray spun around and left the room, the kitchen door swinging shut behind him.

*****

It was just a few days later when Inspector Thatcher informed him that his presence would be required at a conference for Consulate employees in Ottawa over the weekend, and that, after the last time Fraser had left for a few days and Diefenbaker had eaten all the mini-quiches for the Consulate Christmas party, his wolf would have to find alternate accommodations.

Fraser mentioned it in the station that morning, between conversation about the Leafs/Hawks game the night before and the McDaniel case. “Ray, I was wondering if you would look after Diefenbaker for a few days.”

Ray looked up from his desk, where’d he’d been pushing around papers, trying to make it seem to Lieutenant Welsh like he was accomplishing something. “Yeah, sure, Fraser. Where you going?” Ray sounded cheerful enough, but there was a hint of something guarded in his voice.

Fraser explained about the conference, and ended up going on for far too long about how much he did not appreciate Ottawa, as a general rule, despite its status as the capitol of Canada. Things hadn’t been easy between them, since the kiss and the conversation in the Consulate, but it seemed like they were getting back to some state of normalcy, for which Fraser was extremely grateful. He did, however, still feel somewhat awkward about the situation. Hence the insufferable rambling. Ray had started out with a slight frown on his face, but when Fraser ended his apparent treatise (since he had apparently lost his ability to shut his mouth) on Ottawa’s lack of representations of indigenous culture, Ray had a wide smile on his face, and appeared to be trying to hold back laughter.

“Okay, okay. What time do you want to bring him over?”

*****

The conference had been just about as dull and mind-numbing as Fraser had expected. He’d sat through seminars on how to properly file TPX-390 forms, and QR-7s, and gone back to his hotel room downtown every night. He wished he could say that he took in the nightlife, or went to museums, but all he truly did was lie in the bed in the hotel room and think about Ray.

Fraser came back to his hotel room after the conference had ended. He’d spent the afternoon trying to focus on the seminar, but had rather spent most of it turning things over and over in his head. Victoria, how he’d felt about her, and how he felt about Ray, and he couldn’t make the thoughts and images stop, no matter how hard he tried.

He reached into his suitcase and pulled out several pairs of boxer shorts and the spray can, before opening the closet and retrieving the ironing board and iron. Once he had it set up, and the iron heated, he worked, spraying starch and pressing the cotton into hard, almost sharp, crisps. Fraser was efficient, but thorough, using a pattern of strokes to work his way through the five pairs of boxers.

Despite his best efforts to distract himself, it was right after the first pair was done that he started thinking about Ray; what his lips had felt like, his palms soft and warm on Fraser’s face as he explored Fraser’s mouth with his tongue. He slipped and burned his finger on the hot iron, which distracted him for a moment, but as soon as he had the finger in his mouth to soothe the burn, he remembered the way Ray tasted, Ray pinned and hard up against him in the alley, and his cock was getting hard in his uniform pants.

He managed to get through the next four pairs before flipping off the switch on the iron. He folded the pairs of boxers and left them on the ironing board.

He was already unfastening his pants as he laid down on the bed. He pulled his Henley up and off and pushed his pants and boxers down, then spread out on his back. He closed his eyes and let the images of Ray come flooding back as he wrapped his hand around his very hard cock. He imagined Ray’s mouth on his neck in that alley, except this time, Fraser put his hand down between them to unbutton Ray’s pants and pull his cock out into the air. He stroked Ray, feeling him hard and hot in his hand, making him cry out and move his hips. On every stroke, he flicked his thumb over the head of Ray’s penis, and it wasn’t long before he was coming in Fraser’s hand, with breathy moans that went right to the heat in Fraser’s groin.

Ray didn’t waste any time though, and went for Fraser like he was starving, reaching his hand into Fraser’s pants and jerking him until he groaned and came in Ray’s hand, hot pulses that made him almost want to cry, it was so good. When he got his breathing back to normal, Ray’s arms were wrapped around him, holding him close.

Fraser looked up at the ceiling, gasping, fingers running through in the semen on his belly. He felt satisfied, but oddly hollow, because it was no comfort knowing that might be the closest he could ever really get to Ray.

*****

Fraser leaned his head back against the seat and sighed. He’d just accepted a cup of tea from a very attentive flight attendant, and he was doing his best not to think about what he shouldn’t be thinking about. Meaning Ray. Again.

He fastened his seat belt and closed his eyes while the plane descended, and he turned his head to watch the Chicago skyline come into view. He mentally picked out Ray’s apartment among the buildings.

When the plane landed, Fraser grabbed his bag out of the overhead compartment and queued up to get off the plane. He walked out of the gate, heading for a taxi. As he got in and gave the driver Ray’s address, he thought about what life would be like without Ray in it. He had been sure, when he returned to Chicago to find Ray Vecchio missing, that he would not be able to bear it, but he _had_, and, more than that, he’d been happy, these past few months. Ray had made his job and the city something that he could live with, and he dreaded the idea of losing that.

When they arrived at Ray's apartment, he paid the cab driver from the neatly folded bills in his hat and stepped onto the curb.

He felt somewhat tired, from the flight and the lack of sleep, as he climbed the stairs. When he reached Ray’s door, he knocked softly.

The door swung open, and Ray was standing there, a huge, open smile on his face, and nothing in his expression that said he was angry or upset. Fraser just felt welcome, and that was more of a relief than anything.

Diefenbaker trotted toward the door, and Fraser put one hand down to scratch behind one of his ears, brushing Ray’s hand where it had come down to rest on the top of Diefenbaker’s head.

Fraser pictured Ray’s face, his smile, the wide-open expanse of it. He knew that he’d hurt Ray by pushing him away, when Ray clearly knew how Fraser felt. And here was Ray, throwing open his door and his _heart_ for Fraser despite that, and Fraser couldn’t, just _couldn’t_ hold himself at arm’s length anymore. It was killing him to do it, and he honestly didn’t want to any longer.

Ray was still smiling when Fraser looked up. “Hey Fraser, how was your trip?”

“It was...awful, actually. I hated every single minute of it.” He was surprised by his own honesty, but, to be frank, he was sick of lying to himself or anyone else, for that matter. Ray burst out laughing.

“Well, Dief and I missed you. A lot.”

Fraser wanted to say something back, something like _you have no idea how much I missed you_, and _I don’t ever want to go away again_ and, most of all, _I’m so very, very sorry, I was so stupid_, but instead he moved inside and pushed the door shut before putting one hand on the back of Ray’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

Ray made a startled noise against Fraser’s lips, but Fraser kept kissing him, holding onto him tightly, not wanting to let go. The last time they'd kissed, Fraser hadn’t really been paying enough attention to what Ray felt like, what he tasted like, and he wanted to make up for that, so he kissed Ray with everything he had.

When they finally pulled away from each other, Ray’s smile had faded, but not entirely, and he looked a little bewildered. They were both breathing heavily. Ray spoke first. “Shit, Fraser,” he said softly.

Fraser reached out and pulled Ray into a hug. “I missed you. So much.” And, god, he _had_.

Ray hands came up to rest on Fraser’s hips. “I missed you too, I just didn’t think that you wanted this, I never thought I’d have it –“ He sounded desperate, and almost sad.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He let his hands explore the contours of Ray’s body, his back, his hips, and smiled to himself when he noticed that Ray was pushing forward against him and moaning softly. Ray’s hands were grasping at the waistband of Fraser’s jeans and pulling roughly on his tucked-in flannel shirt, trying to root his way down to Fraser’s skin through the fabric.

“Ray, Ray, Ray,” he murmured, before Ray looked up at him, his eyes heavy-lidded. “Can we perhaps move this into the bedroom?” He wanted to get his hands on Ray’s skin, touch every inch of him, inside and out.

“God, Fraser, _yes_. Yes.” Ray’s voice was low and raspy, and he sounded very turned on.

Fraser put his mouth back on Ray’s, moving his tongue along Ray’s, gently at first, but with more purpose behind it the more Fraser walked Ray backwards into the bedroom. Ray raised his arms just inside the bedroom door, and Fraser pulled off his t-shirt, running fingertips down the length of Ray’s chest, feeling his hot, soft skin. Ray was tugging Fraser’s shirt out of his pants and working his fingers down the buttons. He pushed it off of Fraser’s shoulders and let it hit the floor. “Fraser, I didn’t – god, this is so good, so good.”

They were standing at the foot of the bed, and Fraser was frozen, unsure of what to do next. Ray’s hands were on his waist, dipping underneath his waistband. “God, don’t leave me hanging, please.” The expression on his face was exactly like the one he had when Fraser had pulled away from his kiss in the car, like Fraser was going to leave him alone with this, again.

“I'm sorry.” He tried to put every bit of how sorry he was for not trusting this into those words. Fraser pushed Ray down on his back on the bed and climbed on top of him, fastening his mouth to Ray’s again, and kissing him deeply, and the kiss was hot and perfect and sweet. Ray was moaning up into Fraser’s mouth, and Fraser reached down to unfasten Ray’s pants and drag down his zipper.

“Ray.” His voice cracked, because Ray was lying there with his eyes closed, shirtless, his pants opened, his cock hard inside his boxers, and Fraser had never seen him look more beautiful, and Fraser had never loved him more than he did at that moment. Ray opened his eyes and blinked.

“Hey, come on,” Ray whispered, and Fraser put his hand down between them, cupping Ray through his boxers, stroking him slowly but firmly through the cloth. “God, yes, please – I’ve been thinking about this, I want this. Fuck.”

Fraser hooked his fingers into Ray’s waistband. “Lift up.” Ray lifted his hips and Fraser pulled off his jeans and boxers, leaving him naked on the bed. God, this might kill him, he had no idea that it would be like this. He’d imagined what Ray’s body would look like and feel like, but it was _nothing_ compared to the heat of his skin, the golden color against the white sheets, the sounds Ray made in his throat when Fraser reached down to stroke the length of his cock. This was a hundred times better than his fantasies, and it was better because he’d never thought he’d actually have this - have Ray - and now he did.

Ray was saying something, low, almost under his breath, but none of it made a damn bit of sense. Fraser couldn’t focus anyway, everything had narrowed down to Ray in his hand, drawing that incomprehensible babble and the moans from Ray’s throat.

He felt Ray’s hands at his waist, struggling with the button and zipper on Fraser’s pants before getting them open and pushing them far enough out of the way that Fraser’s cock was out, hard and leaking. Fraser took his hand off Ray, dropping his body closer to Ray’s, then wrapped it around the both of them, letting himself push in and out of his own fist and feel the slide of his cock against Ray’s.

“Christ,” Ray cried out, and Fraser thrust again, and got lost in the feeling of skin, Ray hard against him. He held himself up on one hand above Ray and kept his grip tight. Ray’s hips were moving, and he was making more noise, and Fraser could feel him getting close, getting harder in Fraser’s fist. He wanted to see Ray’s face when he came, feel the hot wetness of his come between them. He’d wanted it for some time.

Ray’s whole body tensed up underneath his. “Fuck, yeah, god,” and then he came, all over Fraser’s hand and cock, and their stomachs. Fraser’s cock was sliding more easily now, and he let go and braced himself, sliding back and forth in Ray’s come. Ray was talking to him, leaning close to his ear. “Let it go, Fraser, come on, give it to me, let it go.”

Fraser felt it build from his spine and he was coming, all over himself and Ray, and he was shaking so hard that he could barely keep himself from collapsing and crushing Ray beneath him. It felt like he was being blown apart and remade from the inside out, like everything he’d been and known up to that point was gone, and he was entirely new, but it was nothing like it had been with Victoria, tearing his whole world apart and leaving him in pieces. Instead, this time, he felt more whole, like something more complete. Ray’s hands were stroking him, his fingers on Fraser’s back, and he was whispering, soothing Fraser with his words.

He couldn’t remember how exactly he got onto his back, but that was where he was when he woke up with Ray’s hand smoothing back the hair from his forehead. “Hey there.”

Fraser opened his eyes, and took in Ray’s face above him, his small smile. “Hi.”

Ray was quiet for a moment, then said, “It took you long enough.”

Fraser wanted to say he didn’t know what Ray was talking about, but he knew _exactly_ what he meant. “I know, Ray, I’m sorry. I’m here now. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

Ray grinned, and Fraser wasn’t sure how he ever thought he’d live without that. “Okay.” Ray wrapped his arm around Fraser’s waist and put his cheek on Fraser’s chest. “Stay the night?”

He thought, for an instant, about saying no, he had to work the next day, it simply wasn’t a good idea, but this was different. Ray was different, and _Fraser_ was different, so he leaned over to set the alarm on the nightstand and let himself drift off with his fingers in Ray’s hair.


End file.
